Granting Asylum
by Noon30ish
Summary: "Aren't mental patients supposed to be, I don't know, crazy?" "Do you think I'm actually here because I'm not?" "Do you think you're crazy?" "Are you?" Jack meets a mental patient and can't decide if she's real or not. Or if he's real. Wait, what? Rated T for language. No pairing/shipping.
1. A New Game

**Full Summary:**

**It's been eight years since the defeat of Pitch Black at the Battle of Easter. Jack Frost is still only believed in by a select few and has his work cut out for him. Despite the low number of believers, Jack finds himself becoming exhausted from all the snow-making. But is taking a break in a mental asylum really all it's cracked up to be?**

**A/N: Yes. Yes, that was a pun. Deal with it. But also p****lease read, review, and enjoy! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 1** \- _A New Game_

* * *

_It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It was never supposed to be this way. Why?_

After taking Guardianship, Jack Frost was still the least believed in of the five. Just because he got the fancy title, it didn't mean that kids were going to suddenly believe in him. He had to work for that. Therefore, he had taken a liking to visiting children and trying to make them believe that he existed. Sometimes it was as simple as making it snow in their room, other times he had to improvise.

One time he had to lead a kid through his own house with an ice trail that ended at his younger brother's bookshelf. The reason being that Jack had seen the kid brother open up a book with Jack Frost in it. Granted, the book's depiction of Jack was grotesquely inaccurate and Jack was a little offended, but it worked regardless. The older boy, who was barely over eight, walked over to the book but didn't open it. Jack took the curved part of his staff and used it to flip through the pages until it landed on the picture and sentence. The boy read the name and his eyes had grown wide. He spun around the room to stop lastly on Jack, who was sitting on the boy's brother's bed.

At first, the boy had screamed, which was not what Jack had intended. The winter spirit held up his hands, leaving his staff on the bed, and knelt beside the boy. Calming the kid down, he insisted that he was Jack Frost. Of course, the boy didn't believe him, despite just a second ago bridging the gap that allowed Jack to exist in this boy's mind. So naturally, Jack conjured a snowflake into his hand and swirled it around his fingers. The fractals spun and reflected the dim light of the moon that streamed in from the open window. The boy stared at it and slowly brought his own little finger up to poke it. When they made contact, the snowflake burst, creating blue sparkles in front of the boy's eyes. His shoulders hunched and his features became excited. Soon he was jumping up and down, demanding that Jack do more. Gladly, Jack turned the entire room into an ice rink, the ice materializing under his bare feet. They skated and spun and tossed little snowballs that evaporated as soon as they hit anything that wasn't the boy or Jack. Soon, however, the boy's mother came in.

"Daniel! What are you doing in your brother's room? And why did you open the window? Look at all the frost that's collected!"

"I'm playing with Jack Frost, mom!" the boy named Daniel insisted.

His mother wouldn't have any of it. She walked past Jack, phasing right through him. The feeling never lost its desperate loneliness that was colder than even Jack. Still, the mother closed the window and reprimanded her son without any knowledge of the winter spirit. When she left the room, the boy followed to receive some kind of punishment. As soon as he left, however, he came right back in and insisted that they play some more. Jack was happy to oblige the little kid's wish. Eventually, Jack had to send the kid to bed and leave, but he promised to always be around as long as the kid believed. More often than not, he came back. He was never too busy for the children, unlike _some _Guardians.

But other times, the kids just wouldn't believe. No matter what Jack tried, no matter how much snow and ice he summoned, some kids refused to see him. It hurt Jack, but he had been used to it for three hundred years. He should still be unaffected, right? But Jack couldn't displace the growing feeling that he was never going to be as widely accepted as North, or Tooth, or Bunny, not even Sandy. Nothing could beat holidays and necessities like them. Jack was just a spirit that played around in the snow. What was worse, Jack was noticing technology advancing. Kids were increasingly staying inside. If they were outside, Jack saw that they held their phones close so that they were practically glued to their faces. A lot of the time he couldn't even get them to look up at the wonders he would create just for them.

It was for this reason, as many others, that he frequented Jamie's house while Jamie still believed. Unlike most believers, Jamie had held his belief unnaturally long. He was now eighteen, older than Jack had been, and still believed in them all. Of course, Jamie had been a part of the battle of Easter and was a key person in taking down Pitch Black, and as such a person it was hard to be rid of such potent memories. Jack wished for Jamie to never forget him, and to always believe, but Jack knew that even if Jamie did so, he would still grow old and die someday. It was a morbid thought, however, and Jack never dwelled on it long. Fun times were to be had while they still could.

Today, on the other hand, Jack wanted to be alone. The past week had brought multiple snow days, and of the believers he managed to build up, all of them wanted to play games with the winter spirit. For once, he was tired and desired to rest. Rather than staying at the pond in Burgess, the place that was forever his origin and home, he claimed a snow-capped mountain littered with rigorous pine trees. It was peaceful and secluded, and Jack didn't have to use much of his power because of the abundance of snow around him.

What little magic he did use was focused into making a hammock. It was difficult at first, because Jack was trying to make the ice elastic rather than rigid so that the hammock would be more real. A few tries resulted in broken shards of a cross-stitch pattern and a winter spirit's sore behind from falling several feet each time it the seat was tested. At some point in his trials, he decided to infuse the ice with thick, sticky snow. The kind of snow that was best suited for snowmen and other various sculptures was able to give and take the stress that the ice patterns couldn't. It was a flexible and it appeared to hold his weight when he propped himself onto the structure, leaving his staff stuck into the ground in case it broke and he needed to jump. His back already hurt from the previous falls and he didn't feel like adding another number to it.

Jack saw that it was working and smiled, laughing excitedly. It was the first time he'd been able to make something like this. He lay back into the hammock, letting it take his full weight. Jack pulled his staff out of the snow and settled it next to him. He put his arms behind his head and sighed with a sense of accomplishment. The wind tugged playfully at his hair, caressing him with a job well done. Thanking the wind for the compliment, he stretched out, his arms wide and his legs spread, his muscles relaxing in the process. Then Jack heard a snap, and not a second too soon he fell on his back two feet below, landing into the snow in which he'd already made thousands of impressions. He groaned more in frustration rather than pain and lay still, letting the embarrassment subside.

"Are you okay?" a small voice called out in the silence that ensued. It surprised Jack so much that he gasped, readying his staff defensively. He didn't see anything, but he had definitely heard something.

"I'm sorry," a girl stepped out from behind a nearby tree a little ways down the hill, "I didn't mean to scare you. What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Jack stood up, dropping his guard. It was just a girl. But what caught his attention was her _age_. She looked about the same age that he probably did.

"Don't tell them I'm here, please!" she cried. "I don't want to go back in there just yet."

"Go back where?" Wherever she came from, it couldn't have been very far. She was wearing a loose wool cardigan that didn't fit her and a gown of some sort. On her feet was a mismatched pair of threadbare slippers, her toes red and exposed, as were her ears and nose. Jack noticed her long brown hair was plaited behind her. _She must be freezing._ "Aren't you cold?"

"Please, please don't send me back there," she repeated, hugging herself to the tree, "they'll make me take that medicine again. I don't like what it does to me. It makes me tired and stupid. I don't want to be like the rest of them."

But Jack was confused about another component of this situation. "How are you able to see me?"

The girl's brows furrowed, unsure about the question. She still held tightly to the tree, as if she was afraid of falling. "You're right there, aren't you?"

"Do you know who I am?" Jack was suddenly hopeful.

"I'm not psychic," the girl scoffed, "and you don't look like a celebrity."

"Jack Frost?" He couldn't believe it. How could someone see him and not know who he was? "Did you ever hear stories about me? From your parents or─ or your siblings? Do you have siblings?"

The girl huffed. It was a cold laugh that never touched her eyes. "What does it matter? I'm here by myself. Just don't make me go back there." She separated from the tree and walked toward him warily. "Unless you're from there, too? I haven't seen you around. Are you from one of the lower Wards?"

"Ward─ w-what?"

"I'm from Ward 4. The highest ward. Schizophrenics and dangerous personalities, mostly. They say I'm a paranoid type. Well, one thinks I'm undifferentiated and another thinks I'm residual, but I'm pretty sure the last one said I was paranoid. It doesn't really matter because half of the people here aren't even doctors. I've never been deluded in my life! Well, unless you're not real and I'm talking to you like you are real, in which case I might just have to stay there another six months. But that's a hallucination, which goes to show I still know more than the nurses."

The girl was speaking so fast that Jack had a hard time comprehending what he was hearing. It was usually the other way around: Jack had to make someone else understand his existence. But in this moment, Jack couldn't tell if the girl standing a few feet from him was real or not, let alone whether or not she was joking.

"W-what's your name?" Jack managed to get the words to tumble out of his stunned mouth.

"Oh!" she hit her head with her hand. It seemed rather painful. "I'm sorry. The name's W4-SP-007. 'Bond' works, too."

"Your name's a number?" Jack didn't think any parent was ridiculous enough to name their child a number. He's heard names that take after single letters, seasons, states, even _countries_, but never numbers.

"It's my patient number, but Bond sounds cooler─ double-o-seven─ not that anyone calls me that. It's mostly just a few of the other patients. You know, like the ones still able to talk semi-coherently? Which isn't very many," the girl stepped closer and leaned in, now a foot from Jack. "You're not from a Ward, are you? Are you a nurse? Doctor? No, you don't look nearly old enough. I don't think the white hair's fooling anyone here."

"Uh, do you have a first name that I could call you by?"

That was when she gasped, covering her mouth. "You're an outsider!"

"Well, you're not wrong," Jack laughed. "Let's try this again. I'm Jack Frost, and you are?"

Bond stared at him awhile, letting out an incredulous laugh. She took a few steps, plodding around Jack, eyeing him. Her feet fell heavily into the snow whereas Jack's stayed atop the freshest layer from the night before. She stopped in front of him once again and shook her head, ignoring his question. "Sorry, I can't accept that. I go and tell my shrink that I'm seeing Jack Frost and I'm stuck here for a few more years, at least. Not that getting released would be much better."

"Do you want me to prove it?" Jack held out his staff for her to inspect. When Bond still looked apprehensive, Jack held out his other hand as an invitation. Her eyes flitted in a triangle, from Jack's face, to his staff, to his open palm. Jack observed that her eyes were two different colors: the left was blue and the right was a hazelnut color. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Jack could hear her shallow breaths contemplating his offer.

Jack had never met someone his age that could see him. The Guardians always mentioned that it was plausible if they were a strong enough believer, like Jamie. But this girl didn't even recognize the winter spirit, and Jack was tremendously intrigued. The prospect of making another friend that was his human age excited him. He didn't know why, since she could stop believing at any time, but the idea warmed up to him. Perhaps having older believers would ensure the next generations knew of him? Jack was invested in the theory, and he figured here was a good place to start. If he could keep her believing, he was confident he could get others just as old to perceive him as well. Jack just needed her to say yes.

It was just then that they heard yelling coming from farther down the hill. Into view came several men in dark green uniforms. The closest of the men was bald with a thick blond moustache, stocky and short in stature. The other man was tall and had long reddish hair, freckles dotting his pale face. The brunette girl shrieked and ran toward a nearby pine. Before she got there, however, her feet slipped on a patch of ice and she banged her shin against an upturned tree root. Hitting the ground, she scurried around the tree and tried to hide. She waved to Jack to follow her, but Jack was staring at the men in confusion. They ran straight to where the girl was cowering and tugged her to her feet by her arms. She kicked and screamed, "Jack, help me!"

"There's no one here, Seven," the redheaded man said, referring to her number.

"Let's get you back to your bed, okay?" The stocky man's voice was softer in tone, but his grip looked like iron. "You'll get some of your medicine and an appointment first thing─"

"NO!" Bond screeched. "I won't take it! It kills me! It kills me!" Struggling against the men, Jack saw that she was losing strength quickly. Her legs and arms were thin and frail and her cheeks were sallow and sickly. It looked like she hadn't been fed in days. "Jack!"

Snapping out of his stupor, Jack grabbed his staff and shot ice underneath the men's feet. They slipped forward, however, and Bond fell flat on her back. He heard all of the air being driven out of her being and winced. "Oops," he muttered as he ran over to her and held out his hand once more.

The girl sat up painfully, nearly slipping again several times before she looked up at him. "Okay, that was cool. But could you be more precise next time?"

"I'll try my best," Jack smirked.

This smile reached her eyes this time, a genuine smile that brightened her face and created lines in the corners of her eyes. She reached out for his hand and prepared to hoist her body up, but something happened and she fell backward again. Jack blinked a few times in surprise. He jumped toward her and tried to grab her to stop from falling and it happened again.

Jack's hand went right through her without any resistance.

When Bond stopped tumbling down the hill, Jack saw in her features that she was cognizant of what had occurred. Jack walked toward her again, trying to get her to go with him, but she only looked at him in fear. Without realizing they were close, the men phased through Jack's body and picked the girl up once again. The man with red hair pulled out a syringe and stabbed Bond in the side. After a moment of shock, the spark in her eyes died. This time, she didn't resist. Her feet dragged in front of her as they walked her backwards down the hill, but she did not struggle.

Jack watched until the three of them were out of sight and kicked the snow angrily. He whacked the staff against a tree and sent ice shooting up its branches. He didn't even bother to make another hammock. Instead, he sculpted a chair with the back bent so that he could lie down with his thoughts. The girl didn't believe in Jack Frost. That much must have been true for her to phase through him like that. The sudden dull pain emanated from his being, stalled because of the adrenaline rush he'd received. Being unseen was hurtful beyond recognition, but having someone walk through him was an entirely different matter. It felt like his skin was being ripped apart from the inside, but stopping just underneath the surface and creating a taut, tingling feeling. It pulled at the muscles in a metaphysical manner, and bones creaked like they were about to break. It was as if that person's atoms were pulling at his own, trying to make them part of the same thing. Ultimately, however, Jack became whole again despite the void that made itself known in his gut. Such a feeling shouldn't have come from someone that could see him, but Jack just couldn't force it to be possible in his mind.

The winter spirit went over to and sat back down where his hammock had fallen apart. Halfheartedly twirling his staff in his hands, Jack created an igloo that surrounded him. Dejection wore on him so much that he decided a nap was best. Just before he fell asleep, Jack made the decision to find the girl's room later that night in the hopes of talking to her again.

* * *

**A/N: This is my second (non-one-shot) fic for **_**Rise of the Guardians**_**, so I hope you like it! I got the idea from my other fic that is still currently ongoing. You should really check it out! **_**A Choice of Faults**_** and **_**Granting Asylum**_** are both OC fics, but the OC is different. Same goes for my series of one-shots. The OCs are: Cinder (**_**A Choice of Faults**_**), Bond (**_**Granting Asylum**_**), and Lykos and Fenrir (**_**The Boy Who Cried Wolf!**_**). Don't worry, I use all of the canon characters as well (I mean, is it really a fanfic otherwise?).**

**The updating schedule for **_**Granting Asylum**_** will be every Tuesday and Friday once I've written enough chapters (I'm currently working on the next couple chapters in both fics, so it may be a week or longer until this one gets a second chapter).**

**Okay, okay, I'll stop talking now. Enjoy! :)**


	2. Bonds of the Mind

**A/N: Hello everybody! I'm sorry about not updating this story for awhile. I've been working on the plot (and several other stories' plots because I apparently can't _stop_ coming up with ideas) and characterizations while trying to do schoolwork at the same time, and it really doesn't pan out. From what I have, however, I was able to write out the second chapter. Normally, I would wait until I've written a few chapters ahead of time, but people seem to really like the premise of this story and I couldn't make you guys wait forever. That is why I'm updating technically a day earlier than scheduled. :)**

**Oh, and could you tell me what you guys think about this chapter being in Bond's view? I was thinking about having them alternate every other chapter, but if you guys would prefer one over the other, let me know!**

**Anyway, please read, review, and enjoy! :D**

* * *

**Chapter 2** \- _Bonds of the Mind_

* * *

"That's a nasty scratch yoo 'ave there," the foreign nurse pointed out the obvious, lifting the girl's leg above the cold, metal table to look closer. Her pudgy fingers were cold and clammy, and it itched at Bond's dull senses. The Thorazine was beginning to wear off─ about damn time─ after six hours had passed, and it wasn't until she was calm that the nurse would even see her. Not that Bond wanted to be looked at by her, or any of the other nurses. What did these idiots know? All they could do for her was sedate her. Some treatment that was.

_There's nothing to look at, dumbass. It's a scratch from a tree branch. Oh no! I'm poisoned! How will it ever heal? Am I going to die?! Dumbass. I tripped because I was being chased by your damn bodyguards. Who the hell puts bodyguards in a hospital? You think I'm dangerous? I mean, come on, I was having a pleasant conversation until _they_ showed up. Okay, maybe the conversation was imaginary, I get that. But dangerous? Me? Oh, I'll give you something to need a bodyguard for._

Bond flicked her ankle upward, catching the nurse's chubby chin and bringing her face upward, catching the girl's twisted grin. Then, while the older woman was still puzzled, Bond kicked at her chest, sending her backwards. The overweight nurse let out a deep grunt and pedaled backwards until she caught the back of a sterilized trashcan and fumbled around more. She tried to grab something, but her silly, oily fingers couldn't grip a rope if it was dangled out in front of her. The nurse fell with a glorious thud, which earned joyous laughter from the brown-haired girl on the examination table. The garbage had spilled ugly contents─ old diapers and used syringes, mostly─ all over the floor. They'd have to sanitize that again tonight. Bond smirked, knowing that if she had to stay here longer, she'd have to make everyone else miserable, too. Instead of becoming violent, however, the nurse stood back up and walked back over.

"Now, dearie," a thick Scottish accent warned her, "we doon' kick the people tryin' to 'elp us."

Bond scoffed. The Thorazine still held her tongue, and she refused to speak. A twitch of her lips would have to suffice. The nurse went on to dress the shallow wound and wrapped some gauze around it. Wholly unnecessary, really. The rubbing alcohol burned the exposed flesh and Bond hissed reflexively. She knew she was acting like a child, but what choice did she have? She'd never been allowed to be a child.

Bond had been admitted to this hospital, ironically named _Granting Hope Psychiatric Center_, when she was thirteen, in the year 2016. Before that, the girl had been in a juvenile home since the age of nine. Or ten. It was sometime during 2012 when she first got into this mess. She didn't really remember anymore. All of the doctors, appointments, and lectures blurred together in her mind. None of them ever found the "cure" that her parents had been searching for. Bond kept trying to tell them that there was no such thing, that she wasn't sick, and that nothing was wrong with her. But did they listen? No. They never had. They were never supportive of her, and the resentment still swelled in Bond's heart. Neither of them had even bothered to send her mail or call her here. Once she was dropped off, she never heard from them again. They probably had another child, gave her the same name, taught _her_ to play the piano, and completely ignored all evidence of Bond ever existing. A sneer rested on her face without her recognition.

"If yoo keep yer face like tha', lassie," the nurse said as she finished and helped the girl stand, "yoo'll look twice yer age in noo time."

Bond instantly adhered, tucking the sneer behind a veil of apathy. Her head twitched again, as well as several fingers. She was about to nod and thank the obnoxious lady when something moved out of the corner of her eye. Whipping her head to the right and ignoring the nurse's attempts at nudging her out of the room, Bond's eyes settled on a figure standing in the corner. It looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Remaining silent, it took a step toward her and Bond stumbled backward, bumping into the nurse. Paying no mind to the woman, Bond kept her gaze on the sight in front of her.

"You know they can't fix you," the figure whispered, "you know it, and yet you let yourself stay in this place. Why? You could just run. Oh, wait..." the thing smirked knowingly.

"Clara will come back for me!" Bond yelled suddenly.

The nurse jumped at the outburst and smacked the girl's arm. Bond flinched and took notice of her once again. "No moor screamin', lass. They'll take yoo back to yer room soon."

"They don't know a thing about you, do they?" the man said. He was now on the other side of the table and drawing nearer to the girl. His posture was hunched, but he was still tall and somewhat lanky. His breath was... not gross and awful, but... _dark_, if that could even happen. Bond watched him carefully, occasionally glancing back at the nurse who paid them no mind. She was on the phone; no doubt calling the guards again. Bond wanted to scream again, but she knew that all that could answer her was a syringe and a bleary existence others called sleep. "They'll hurt you. They'll inject that poison in your bloodstream again. It'll kill you again. And it will _hurt_." The man lunged toward her and the nurse.

Despite hating this nurse, Bond knew she had good intentions and jumped on her defensively. "Stop it!" Bond yelled at the man. "Stop it! Get away! Stop it!"

"Wha's gott'n into yoo? Devil's doin'!" the frightened middle-aged lady shoved Bond to the floor.

Her head hit the tile and the surroundings began to spin. Damned old hag! Bond slowly got on her elbows and saw the man was mirroring her position, his face inches from hers. She shrieked and sent her fist out, then her legs, and eventually she was wrestling him. He artfully dodged every blow and only laughed harder at her feeble attempts to fight. She grunted and lashed out more frequently, her eyes blind with fury. After a few moments, calloused hands caught her arms and legs and the floor was suddenly far away. Screaming, Bond believed she was being taken away by the man and his minions. She'd seen them before, smacking the other patients in the ward. The young girl had yelled at them to stop, but they ignored her. Finally, they had found their way to her. But Bond wouldn't have any of it this time. Bringing her arm up to her mouth, she bit down hard on the figure's hand. A satisfying _crunch_ was heard and a yelp and a release of her limbs followed. The girl crashed to the floor and immediately tried to crawl away. They wouldn't abuse her, not this time. She was going to get away and tell her doctor. She was going to ask for a transfer. She was going to get out of this place and get better. Oh, the irony of this place was not lost on her.

But something tagged her skin, pinching it and making it unbearably warm. With dreaded realization, Bond tried to twist her body around to see who had given her more of the Thorazine. Before her vision tired, she saw Brutus, the stocky bald guy, and Jerry, the tall redheaded dweeb, standing over her. The man she had seen earlier was gone. Lazily rolling her body over so that she was on her back again, Bond saw the figure in the opposite corner of the hallway. He was grinning maniacally.

"He's..." Bond's throat was beginning to close and she coughed, "right there... Don't... let him─" another coughing fit and her vision blurred to the point of simple shapes "don't... he'll─ he'll..." Bond's mind ceased to work and the blackness covered her in a thick blanket.

_Don't let him find me._

* * *

Bond opened her eyes drearily. Her body was still. She was on her back. It was dark. Her head ached and her limbs were sore and her throat was dry and she needed a drink. Taking a few slow breaths, she turned her face toward the right, gaining a sense of her environment. In the dim light from the window high above her, she could see little more than shadows. The room wouldn't have revealed much more in broad daylight, anyway. She knew where she was: the hole, it was usually referred to in prisons. Here? Bond couldn't remember the name, because she didn't think she would ever be back here again. Too many memories overwhelmed her groggy mind and she closed her eyes again.

The first time she had been here was the entire first year of her admittance to this forsaken hospital. That's right: one whole year. Bond's psychosis─ as described by her doctors─ made her unpredictable and a hazard around the other, better-behaved patients. She had finally broken down, they said. Her mind was damaged. More importantly, it was physically damaged and there was little more they could do short of personality-altering surgery. Her parents didn't care. Do it, they said. But the doctors could never get anywhere close to Bond. She insisted he spoke to her, insisted that she had to get out of there, and that she was fine. It got so bad that every time she was visited, they had to inject her with a more diluted syringe of Thorazine just so that she wouldn't try to escape, or claw their faces off, or any other crazy stories the nurses had gossiped about. Of course, she had never done any of that. She didn't even believe herself to be dangerous. The girl only wanted to be understood. Yet, everyone resolved to let her finish her psychotic episode in solitude. Every few weeks, they reevaluated her. And every time, she insisted they spoke to her. That they were real and that they needed her to leave _now_. Who were "they"? The doctors asked this constantly, but never received an answer. At the end of the year, something changed in Bond. She calmed down and began to speak openly with the doctors. It was determined that the long-winded episode was finally over, and she was allowed out on the Ward Grounds.

And now she was back in the dreaded room. Opening her eyes again, she shifted her weight to try and sit up. Something pushed on her abdomen and sent her back onto the mattress. _What the hell?_ She pulled her arm up, only to find that her wrist was bound in the same way. As was her other wrist. And her legs. The girl groaned and thrust her head back onto the thin cloth they called a pillow. _Just great. I haven't had anything happen for a year, and three years before that, and now I'm back in here. I'll never get out. Clara! Wait for me, please! I know last time didn't work out so well, that I got sent back so early, but I promise I'll get well soon! Have faith in me._

Bond didn't know why she was silently praying in the empty room. No one could hear her. There was no one to hear her, she told herself. There never was. Clearing her parched throat, she turned her head again, training her eyes to see more in the bleak lighting. The nightstand next to her had a glass of water. _That's really fucking useful, _Bond sneered. Wriggling uncomfortably, an impatient growl escaped her lips. Because _that_ was going to help her thirst. Absolutely.

"There you are!" a voice called out from above and shattered the silence.

Without looking, Bond was scared that the man had come back. "Get away. I know you're not real!"

There was a pause. Did that really work? Was Bond finally getting better? Her hopes were rising.

"I don't know what happened earlier, either," the voice spoke softly. Bond twitched nervously. This wasn't the same man. It seemed familiar. Who was it...? "But you can see me. I just wanted to talk to you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from those guys."

That jogged the girl's memory. It was the white-haired boy out in the hills. The boy who called himself Jack Frost. Was she supposed to take that seriously? She's seen patients who claim themselves to be witches or ghosts, or even the president of the United States, but she had never seen anyone deluded enough to call themselves a mythical figure. Mall Santa Clauses were different. They knew they weren't really Santa Claus. But this boy really did believe he was Jack Frost. As she recalled, he was going to prove it to her. What did that even mean? The girl puffed excess air through her nose. It didn't matter. He wasn't real, either. She'd gone right through him. The guards had gone right through him. Hell, they didn't even _see _him. There was no way that he could be real. Bond remained silent.

"Aw, come on," the voice tried again, "are you mad at me? I said I was sorry."

Indeed, he did sound sorry. Still, Bond refused to open her mouth. If he was so sorry, he'd leave.

"Bond, was it? Can you at least let me in?" He insisted. She was finding it harder to answer, but she stood her ground. Well, lay on her ground. Lay on her bed, actually. She gave up trying to make the metaphor work properly.

_He's not real, he's not real, he's not real._ Bond kept repeating to herself. _He's not real!_ Her limbs were quivering from the effort to block him out. A shadow appeared in the window through the door, not the outside window. She knew it. He had shape-shifted and appeared on the other side of the door. He could let himself in and torture her al he wanted. She couldn't break down again. _He's not real, he's not real!_ Frowning, she narrowed her eyes. The figure on the other side of the door tilted its head. Shivers crawled up her spine and she took in a sharp breath. It smiled, she knew it. _He is NOT real, damn it!_

"Why don't you let me in?" The voice called, darker. "It'll be fun," the figure on the other side of the door laughed. She stared and stared until the scene came into focus. The drugs weren't completely gone from her system and it was making it harder for her to concentrate.

"Shut up!" Bond yelled. Her words were cracked and hoarse.

"Oh, I thought you were asleep," the voice called from the window outside again, "did you hear me? Am I allowed to come in?"

"Why don't you let me in?" His voice deepened, sinister in every facet of the term.

"I said shut up!" Bond started to cry. _He's a real pain in the ass._ "I won't let you in!" Bond was avidly shaking against her restraints. So much so that it tipped to one side just a little too far. Letting out a shriek, a crash of metal as loud as a car collision echoed off the cement walls. Bond's weight pulled the bed further, landing it on top of her. The girl's face was ground into the dirty floor. Tiny specks of dirt found their way into her mouth, her nose, and dug painfully into her cheeks. She cried out in pain until she realized that it hurt her throat even more.

There was a crackling sound above her. Something metal creaked and groaned, giving in to some sort of weight. Bond's fear gripped her and she struggled to move. But she was stuck, and left to fend for herself against the unreal. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she murmured a prayer. She wasn't one for religion, but if there was ever something out there, perhaps it would hear her now. _Help me! Vanquish them! Vanquish the unseen!_ Then there was a snap and Bond yelped in surprise as metal bars clanged against the floor next to her. Against her better judgment, she started to whimper like a little kid and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable.

"Whoa!" A cold wind blew through the room and Bond shivered. The voice was closer now. "Bond! Are you okay?"

Hands gripped the underside of the bed, close to her wrist, and Bond shrieked from the sudden movement. The pale fingers were long and thin and it seemed like death was finally here for her. The bed shook above her, but the figure didn't alleviate its weight. A grunt was heard, and then the fingers were gone. Bond's heart raced in the silent moments and she held her breath. Whatever it was, it was gone. She exhaled in a cold sweat and relaxed. Then there was a crack as some sort of stick was shoved underneath the bed and closed in on Bond's face. She screamed again and begged and begged and begged for whoever it was to go away. The edge of the stick was lifted and the hand appeared again. Bond cut off her screams and whined to herself. She didn't want to be stuck in this hospital forever. _Don't let them hear you. There's nothing really there. I'm just having a bad dream. I've had ones like these before. You always wake up before you see their face. It's the body's natural response. I'm fine. I'm just dreaming. I'll wake_─

The white-haired boy's face was drawn in a grimace as held his staff above his head. "This thing's heavier than it looks. Can you get out? I don't know if I can hold this much longer. This staff isn't exactly invincible."

Bond simply stared. Her face was a white and made of stone. This hallucination was _helping_ her. Had they done that before? _I mean, he tried to help me before, but..._ She was about to crawl out when she remembered the restraints were still locked in place. She sighed and shook her head. "It's no use. They tied me to the chair."

"They tied you?" The boy looked incredulous. Had he never seen a mental hospital? "I get that they don't want you to run away, but they _tied _you?"

"Trust me, it's not excessive," Bond lied with dry humor. "You should've seen what they did to Maurice the day he took one of the knives out of the kitchen. No one would even go near the guy after they managed to tie him up. And that was only for walking around mumbling nothings. Oh," Bond was getting to the good part, "and wait until you see what they did to Fiona after they found her─" Bond fell to the floor, the dirt grinding into her cheekbone, "─OW! What the he─"

The leather bonds were frozen stiff on the floor beside her. Her wrists were free. Laughing because it felt good to be free from her bed, and because it was so unbelievable that a hallucination could interact with her surroundings, she rubbed her hands together and then felt up her arms and down her abdomen to her legs and ankles. Everything was free. Cold, but free. She was laughing from the excitement.

"Freezing leather is fun and all," the boy's voice grunted, "but I'm getting a little tired holding this bed up. Could you crawl out so that I don't crush you," he added as an afterthought, "please?"

Bond stopped rejoicing and wormed her way out from her temporary prison, twirling onto her feet unsteadily. Ankles didn't feel the greatest when they had been cramped by a bed twice her size. Wavering, she stuck out her arms and started to fall. The boy rushed over to pick her up when his hand went right through her stomach. Bond gasped and fell the rest of the way, back onto the floor. It had happened before, but now she was sure. He had gone _through her_. This hallucination was untouchable. Well, the others never made an attempt to touch her, and whenever she fought them, they were too good at avoiding her punches, so she couldn't be sure he wasn't like the rest.

_There's one way to test that,_ Bond thought with a smirk. Spinning around on her heel, which still throbbed, the girl threw her left arm right for the boy's face. He flinched away, but not far enough. Bond witnessed as her physical fist phased right through his cheek. Her mouth flew open and she stepped backward, bumping against the wall. "You're..."

"Did you just," the boy paused, furrowing his brows, "did you just _punch_ me?"

Bond gulped. If he had been a nice hallucination, he sure wasn't going to stay one. "Y-yeah... I did."

The boy stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. Then he let out a short laugh and ruffled his hair in one hand, his staff in the other. "Wha─ what─ _why_ did you punch me?"

"I wanted to know if you were real," Bond stated matter-of-factly.

"Do you punch everyone you meet?" The boy touched his cheek, as if it really hurt.

That's when Bond whipped her head toward the door and shot behind the upturned bed. The second voice. There must have been a second voice. Who was it? Where was it? "Show yourself!" Bond peered from above the sideways metal headboard.

The boy cracked an odd smile and turned toward the door. Much to Bond's alarm, he walked up to the door and glanced through the window. "Who're you─"

"Get away from the door!" Bond hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. She waved her hand toward her. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

The boy looked back at the door and her again. "What are you talking about? Can you even leave this room? What if you have to go to the bathroom?" He started wandering around the room in a slow, arching circle. Pausing at each wall, he put his hand onto the rough surface. In the moonlight, Bond saw ice fractals appear on the wall nearby where he stood. She rubbed her eyes. The broken window above her must be allowing the dew on the walls to freeze over. Maybe now the staff would think about redecorating, Bond laughed to herself. The boy continued to walk, trailing his hand along the wall. He tapped his staff a few times against the floor absentmindedly. After a few moments, he walked toward the bed. She was about to warn him about the broken glass when he hopped over the spot─ _and _the bed─ and landed beside her. Bond fell backwards again and shuffled away from him.

"Did you just jump like, ten feet?" Bond looked at the boy warily. She'd forgotten all about the second entity she'd seen moments ago.

"What?" The boy looked confused about his apparent jumping abilities. "Oh, that's nothing. You should see me fly sometime." Then he seemed to think of an idea. "Do _you_ wanna go flying? I'm sure I could find a way to carry you or someth─"

Bond swatted at him again, forgetting that she couldn't touch him. Her hand phased through him again and he flinched like it hurt. "Stop it! You're joking, right? You can't fly. And stop acting like it hurts when I try to touch you. Honestly, it feels a little rude."

The boy put up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. It's okay. I'm not going to drop you or anything, but I _can_ fly. I'm Jack Frost, remember?" He was about to mention something else, but he held it back. "I'm Jack... Frost... you don't know who Jack Frost is, do you?"

Bond laughed off the comment. "I know who Jack Frost is, and he isn't you. Jack Frost is an imaginary snowman that eats children. Imaginary. Snowman. I'm pretty sure you're oh-for-two."

His features lit up. "But you said I'm not imaginary," he pointed out.

Bond couldn't resist rolling her eyes. If she told her hallucination that they were imaginary, they would just deny it. This one seemed to be pleased that she skipped that step. Could hallucinations get smarter than her? Or rather, smarter than they already were? But this one seemed friendly enough. _Well, so had..._ No. She couldn't let herself think about it. She swore to herself to never think about it again. The memories threatened to surface and she had to find a way to stifle them down. "I also believe I said that you were a carnivorous ball of snow."

"Do I look like I'm made of snow to you?" Bond reached out to try and touch him again, but he backed away. "Please don't try and prove that. I get it now."

Bond frowned. She thought it would have been fun. Or would that have been a form of torture? She shrugged, considering neither would have had ill effects on her part. Still, the boy claiming to be Jack Frost seemed to have a different motive for coming to her. It wasn't to mock her or terrify her─ in fact, he had done the opposite. Bond couldn't help the overwhelming curiosity, and asked, "Are you sure you aren't from another Ward? Or a transfer? That happens a lot. Especially with those from Ward 3. They just keep getting moved up. Seems the nurses can't handle them. Big surprise, huh? The nurses here can't do shit. Look at my leg," Bond pulled up her smock enough to show the gauze, "all this for a measly scratch from _tree bark_. Ridiculous, right?"

Jack blinked in surprise. "I-I'm sorry that happened. I couldn't stop them, you know."

"Hey, hey," Bond sat with her legs crossed in front of her, "no need to apologize. Brutus and Jerry are just a bunch of dunderheads who can't tie their own shoelaces. Jerry─ the redhead─ he was counting the patient blocks the other day, and he couldn't remember what came after twelve! He had to ask Brutus and by the time he got an answer he lost count again! Idiots, right?"

Jack was looking at her, his eyes darting up and down and his face molded in confusion. "What was in the thing they stabbed you with?"

Bond recovered from the change of subject. "Oh, the syringe? Do you know what those are?"

"I do now," Jack waited for her to continue.

"Well," Bond began. If he didn't disappear after this long-winded explanation, he might as well be real, "syringes are like these tiny needles that they fill with─ well, whatever they want. Anyway, that one was filled with Thorazine. Do you know what─ no, I'm sure you don't. Okay, um, Thorazine is a drug─ do you know what a drug─ never mind. It's a thing that changes you. Well, it doesn't _change _you. It changes things about you. Like, how you act and stuff. Do you know what weed is? Thorazine's a little like that. But more sedative, like Morphine. Am I losing you? No? Good. Thorazine basically makes you a dumb, sleepy vegetable and you drool everywhere and it's horrible. I got injected with 800mg worth of the stuff. Do you know how much that is?" The boy shook his head, a sign that he was still listening. "Well, normal dose for me is about 300mg. And lethal is... I want to say somewhere around five grams? So about... 5000mg? Might be more, might be less. I'm not a doctor. Of course, neither are they. There's only one doctor per Ward here. Isn't that crazy? No pun intended, probably."

"Aren't you tired at all?" Jack looked baffled, but he was still there in front of her, sitting down with an extreme amount of patience. Bond had to admit, this hallucination was persistent.

But she could see that he had a good reason to ask that question. Her throat was still very much dry, so she stood and walked over to the nightstand, which had been surprisingly undisturbed throughout the night's events. Picking up the glass, Bond held it in both hands and sipped greedily. Then she thought of something.

"Do you want any?" She held the glass out toward him without turning in his direction. If he could hold the glass, then maybe...

"I'm not really thirsty, thanks," Jack declined, "besides, you probably still want that."

Bond shrugged and took another drink. She couldn't finish it, however, and handed it back to the boy again. "I don't want the rest of it. You can have it. Really, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Jack asked, still not reaching for the glass.

"Yes, yes," Bond turned toward him, "you said you wanted to show me you were Jack Frost earlier. Can you show me now?"

Looking in her eyes for a few more seconds, Jack reached for the glass. Just as he was about to touch the glass, Bond heard keys jingling just outside her door. Panicking, the water slipped from her hands and spilled onto the floor. In the heat of the moment, however, she believed that Jack dropped it after handing it to him. It all happened so quickly. The men came in. One of them held her hand behind her while she screamed and the other put the bed upright again, fixing the covers before she was thrown back onto the bed. Thrashing uncontrollably, Bond couldn't get away. Her eyes flew around the room for any sign of Jack. Lastly, her eyes landed on the corner underneath the window. He stood there, watching as she was being restrained once again. She called out to him, but he did nothing, his face shrouded in the shadows. His sweatshirt glistened in the pale light and his stark white hair stood out against the gray of the concrete. A sharp pain was delivered to her side and the world started to spin. Bond cried out nonsensically. Turning toward the corner once again, she saw two people watching her. One was Jack, but the other...

"Look out─!" was the last thing she said before the black depths of her unconscious consumed her.

* * *

**A/N: ****Oh, if you have time, and want another suggestion of what fics to read next, I recently posted a short called _The Things No One Knows_. It's a zombie!AU starring Jack and the other Guardians. It won't stay a short, however. I plan on making it a full story (I just need to write out the plot and stuff like I was supposed to for this one... woops). I hope you'll check it out!**

**(Note: NOT based off _The Walking Dead_!)**


	3. New Sounds, New Sights

**A/N: Hello my lovelies! Hopefully when I've uploaded this I'll have finished all of my finals and started my summer! YAY!**

**I have so many huge plans! I'm a volleyball player (though I don't get normally any playing time during the summer) and I'll be buying my own equipment this summer so that I can practice. I'm so excited! Also, if any of you know which volleyballs would be better (Tachikara vs. Molten, or any outdoor balls) please, PLEASE pm me! I'm having a hard time deciding which one I should get... I'll be playing mainly outside, but the ball would also be for when I get back into my indoor team in the fall. ****I'll still have time to write my stories, though, don't you worry!**

**Alright, sorry about bugging you guys with all these words. ****Please read, review, and enjoy! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 3** \- _New Sounds, New Sights_

* * *

Jack woke up the next morning, realizing he'd slept through the entire afternoon yesterday and through the night. He guessed flying all this way after so many snowball fights and sled rides had taken a toll on him. His homemade igloo hung low, glistening with the sun's rays shining overhead. Yawning, he instantly grabbed his staff that lay beside him and stretched. He never let that thing leave his sight. The wood was fragile, even if he enforced it with his ice. The tip of his staff tapped a weak point in the igloo and the snow caved in around him. Jack allowed himself to stay buried for a moment before digging his way out and summoning the wind to free the rest of him, hoisting him into the air before gently settling him down again. He laughed, shaking the snow free from his hair. The igloo was nothing more than a pile of malleable snow, the impression of his body still visible. _You'd think I'd be better at handling this stuff by now,_ he chuckled to himself.

Taking in his surroundings, Jack stretched outward, standing on his toes. The pines were thicker farther up the mountain, so he decided to try descending the mountain instead. Turning around, he noticed a splotch of red in the distance. Jack squint his eyes and called to the wind to pick him up for a closer look. Obeying, the wind threw him into the air, tossing and turning in turbulence. After the initial shock, Jack settled himself in the air, upright, and urged onward.

The red became more solid, and Jack realized he was looking at a very large brick building. A few seconds of flight closer and Jack saw that it was in fact several very large brick buildings. Landing on the top of one of the structures, the winter spirit was awed by the massive proportions of the architecture. There were walkways, walled in, connecting each of the buildings to each other. People were walking in pairs across, oblivious to the spirit who stood watching. They looked sick, or at least really old. Perhaps it was a retirement home. If it were more aesthetically pleasing, North would have been jealous. Jack smirked as he thought of a later joke for the older Guardian. Jack would have to tell him about this sometime.

He hadn't seen North, or the other Guardians for that matter, since the Battle of Easter. Well, that was a lie. He'd seen Baby Tooth numerous times, and Tooth on occasion. She had taken his advice in spending some of her own time in the field here and there. Somehow, Tooth always managed to run into Jack during these times. And, like always, she had to check in on his teeth. _How are they, Jack? Are they still pearly white? Are you taking care of them?_ Tooth worried nonsensically about his teeth. Then she would remember there was a person attached to those teeth and she would ask Jack about how he was getting used to Guardianship. He would tell her it was a breeze, that it was easy, and that he was gaining believers by the day. The last part may have been a small lie. But seeing Tooth smile was worth it. Besides, Jack didn't want to rain on her parade. Soon after he would be done talking, Tooth would go on and on about how many teeth she was finding and wondering if something was wrong with the kids and how she missed seeing the other Guardians again and how there were so many teeth and so many memories. The way Tooth expressed herself was odd, but it never ceased to make Jack smile. Then she would ask for a hug, to which Jack always agreed, and Tooth would fly off to go collect more teeth.

Jack smirked at the memory. He hadn't even seen Tooth in a few months. But that was okay. He was taking a small break, here.

"Oh, no..." That's when Jack's eyes grew wide. He'd forgotten about Bond, the weird girl from the other day. She'd been dragged off by these two goony men and stabbed with some crude object. The girl had looked mortified when she ran her hand right through his. Jack still felt the emptiness that accompanied the phasing of his body through hers. It never felt good, not even neutral. There was always a hint of desperation and sadness that tugged at him every time a nonbeliever ran through him. But this girl saw him! She didn't really want to recognize the fact that he was Jack Frost, but she wasn't denying it either. Come to think of it, Jack wasn't entirely sure what she thought. Her ramblings had been scattered and her train of thought seemed to forget where the tracks were more often than not. But she had been interesting enough and he wanted to understand what this place she was from was all about. It seemed like a hospital of sorts, but she'd called it... a Ward, was it? Or part of it was? And something about schizophrenia, about which Jack hadn't a single clue.

Wondering that he might be able to find her here, Jack started walking around the roofs. Reaching the edges, he would hang upside down with his feet holding onto the roof and peer inside the windows. Many of them were empty rooms that made him think of hospitals. There would be one of those metallic beds with crappy mattresses (Jack had sat on one before when he visited Jamie in the hospital; the boy had broken his leg skiing) and stiff blankets and thin pillows, there would be a draping curtain on a track in the ceiling, and there would be a sink or a door leading to a small bathroom. Some of the rooms had people in them, but they usually weren't on the beds. In one room, he saw a man curled up in the corner sitting and staring into space. Jack knew humans to do weird things when being introspective, but this man didn't seem to be thinking of anything. _On to the next room, then,_ Jack concluded.

He set to this for about an hour, checking every single window he could reach from the roofs of every single building. Not finding the strange girl with two different-colored eyes, Jack asked the wind to carry him around to the other windows. He was finishing up the first building when he rounded the corner and saw a particularly large set of windows that took up the entire floor. Pushing off the wall of the previous building, Jack launched himself toward this spectacle. He grabbed the ledge and pulled his head up, peering inside carefully. The window was cracked, letting some of the winter air, and some of Jack's snowflakes, flutter into the open room. It seemed to be a common area, or maybe a reception area? Jack rejected the idea because this room was on the third floor. However, there was a walled in window inside the room that slid open. A nurse of sorts would hand cups to the people that lined up, and the people would drink from them and toss them into a small gray bin below. Did they have to get permission or pay for water to drink? Jack knew hospitals were expensive here, but seriously?

Crossing his arms and propping his head against the window frame, Jack watched for awhile. There were a few people sitting on benches that were on the walls below the windows. Some ignored the glorious view out over the winter landscape and simply stared inward. There was one square column in the middle of the room, to which posters of some kind were attached. Jack couldn't really read them from here, so he mostly ignored them. Some of the people in here were rocking back and forth, either raucously or imperceptibly. Others muttered things he couldn't hear, but for the most part, things were calm. One thing he did notice about all of the people in this room, and in other rooms, is that they all wore the same thing. It was a loose smock of sorts, patterned with little blue flowers, and loose blue pants to match. The smocks were short sleeved, and some of the people had on a tighter blue undershirt. Was this a hospital or a prison?

Jack angled his head to look into the right side of the room only to find his view blocked by a tall wooden object atop some wheels. It looked like it hadn't been moved in a long time, however, because the wheels were sunk into the ground and rusted. So much for trying to push it out of the way, Jack pursed his lips. He didn't want people to freak out of this thing started moving on its own, anyway.

An older lady suddenly came walking toward the column. She aimed a small, bony finger on a piece of paper and smiled as the nail trailed down the scribbles written on it. She then walked over to a bench that had been kept underneath the wooden obstruction and pulled it outward. Stepping around the side, she sat down and slid to the middle of the bench. Curious now, Jack leaned forward as much as he could, his feet slipping on the bricks he had been using for a foothold as they were now covered in frost. Jack rolled his eyes and ignored his feet, trusting the wind to keep him afloat so he could witness what the lady would do.

Then a sound was heard, and another, then several, all at once, and Jack found out what this woman was doing: she was playing a piano. The notes were staggered and disjointed, but slightly harmonious. Jack couldn't detect a melody of any sort, but it wasn't unpleasant to listen to. It reminded him briefly of the music that would be played in the Burgess village common when he was human. It was always playful, but the talent was varied. Jack pulled his body up and twisted around so that he sat on the outside of the window sill. He could easily crawl through the window into the room, but he didn't want to spend too much time here. The promise to find Bond was still there, but as long as she was somewhere here, Jack figured she would be safe, more or less. It depended on what those men had done, but Jack wasn't thinking about it too hard. He leaned his head against the wooden frame and closed his eyes, listening to the old woman playing.

"What happened to my time slot for the piano?" A desperate question rang out from some hallway Jack didn't realize was there. Leaning forward, Jack saw Bond run into room, appearing rather distressed. She was here! Jack had found her! Her question and her body were stopped midway, however, when one of the attendants held her arm.

"Your privileges were revoked, Ms. Clarke," the tall, blond woman told her calmly, "you walked off the premises without permission." _Clarke? So she does have a real name. Why wouldn't she tell me? Wait... can she see me right now?_ Jack was about to make himself known when Bond responded.

"I told you, I wanted to go for a little walk! And my name's Bond," Bond tried to wry her hand from the attendant, but it seemed that this one knew her better. But instead of continuing to protest physically, Bond calmed down and spoke again. "I was going to come right back. Honestly, do you think I have anywhere to go?"

"Your past records didn't paint the kindest image of you, Ms.─"

"Let the g-girl pl-ay," the old woman got up from the bench, much to Jack's surprise. He hadn't even realized she had stopped. "We all kn-know she's much b-better than most of─ of us," the woman struggled through her stutter and bodily twitches. Jack looked at her closely now, noticing that her eyes were wide and never still. She never seemed to settle on one thing to look out, and her fingers never stayed in one place. The winter spirit couldn't help but silently congratulate the woman for trying to play in such a deteriorated state. A sudden epiphany took to Jack as he saw that many of the people in here were in a similar position, more or less. Not all of them were old, but none of them were as young as Bond. And yet this teenager could play better than any of them? Jack was intrigued as he debated stepping into the room. He was used to not being seen, but he had to hold himself back in case Bond was frightened by him. His first impression may not have ended very well.

Bond's blue and brown eyes lit up like the Northern Lights and she ran over to the older woman. "You'd really do that, Margaret? You love the piano; it helps your arthritis, doesn't it? Oh, thank you! I won't take up any longer than four minutes, I promise! That's the rest of your ten-minute slot, right?"

The attendant pointed sternly at them. "Now, Mrs. Walker, you know this is against the Ward's policies─" she said to the older woman as she had begun to intercept Bond. Jack acted on instinct, aiming his staff at the ground in front of the attendant. The ice that shot out covered the floor around the piano in a thin veneer of slippery chaos. The attendant slipped backwards, which earned laughter from even the most withdrawn and oblivious people in the room. Jack joined in the laughter, easing into the room and holding his stomach.

Bond's head whipped away from the piano to stare at him. Her brown hair followed, covering her face in pieces of frizz. Her eyes were wide, each one holding a different emotion. The brown one was unnerved, cautious, maybe even frightened. The blue one was surprised, hopeful, and perhaps even thankful. The reaction was conflicting Jack, so he stopped his laughter.

"Uh, hi," Jack put out his hand without thinking. He took it back awkwardly, remembering recent events. "I'm sorry I didn't come to find you yesterday... I─ uh..." Jack didn't want to say he'd forgotten, especially when he couldn't be sure what she was thinking.

Bond eyed him without much change in her expressions. Her eyes glanced around the room before she sat down at the piano again. The attendant was still on the floor, confused as to why ice had found its way into the building, but she was largely ignored. Jack got the feeling of eyes on his back, but when he looked around, he saw that everyone in the room was looking at Bond. There was no sheet music on the piano, but that didn't seem to stop her. Her fingers rested on four or five of the shorter black keys, stretching and relaxing momentarily. Bond's eyes were closed and her shoulders slumped. A few seconds passed by, and Jack debated asking her. But she seemed to be concentrating, or at least meditating, so he waited patiently.

Without precursor, without opening her eyes, Bond's right hand began to press onto the keys. Three immediate, soft, high notes led into the left hand's notes, which were also higher than normal. The entire introduction was airy, with periods of slow build from the left hand and quick flights up and down the keys from the right hand. There were small pauses between each upward or downward stroke, both hands still on the right side─ the higher notes, as Jack quickly surmised─ of the instrument. Then, the same light right-hand notes began again, and the left hand entered with much lower notes─ ones that were more continuous and provided a scaffolding for the higher notes to flutter about in their smaller spurts. It had become slightly faster, but it was still slower than a lot of the jigs that Jack had heard when he was human. Then this section ended and the right hand played normal range notes, becoming more powerful with each passing second. The right hand had no more rests as it played these notes, going up and down with articulated, slow strokes. Everything about this song was sad and sweet, endearing and tearful. Perhaps it had been a lullaby. Then a minor chord began to play as Bond whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Where were you? The guys showed up and gave me more of that Thorazine again. I guess they heard the glass breaking or something. Took them long enough to figure it out, huh? I told you they were idiots," her quiet ramblings could barely be heard above her notes. She wasn't even looking at the piano. Her eyes had opened and traveled to the windows, but her fingers continued to glide over the keys with practiced ease. Jack was about to say that he was sorry again and that he had fallen asleep when certain words caught his attention.

"What are you talking about? Thorazine? And what glass?" There wasn't any glass outside in the woods, was there? Or was she referring to his ice sculptures (because clearly that hammock wouldn't work as anything else)? The same verse began to repeat on the piano, just with different accented notes. She was biding her time.

"From the window you broke, silly. I know it was pretty dark but I'm pretty sure you could hear the shattered pieces of glass and metal hit the floor. Oh, and they probably heard my screams, too. I guess it isn't _totally _your fault. Sorry about that. I couldn't really see─ I was coming off the Thorazine, so everything was super hazy, you know?─ and I honestly thought you were that damned man again. Well, you know who I'm talking about─ he was standing right next to you. I see you got out of things fine, though."

Jack stared back at her, his brows furrowing in confusion. What on Earth was this girl talking about? Had he sleepwalked again? Jack had been known in his human years to do more than his fair share of oddities while in his sleep, but he was usually told by his sister or his mother about what happened. He'd dragged his bed up next to everyone else's beds or shoved it far away and paced around the room mumbling about tricks─ or food. He'd pretended to play the violin in his sleep, breaking his father's violin strings on more than one cacophonous occasion. Every time, his sister would make fun of him or his mother would chide him about never getting enough sleep. Admittedly, Jack never did like to sleep, at least not early in the night. The night was the perfect time to scheme! But Jack wasn't sure if he could trust Bond to give him the truth. She said she was schizophrenic, right? Wasn't that medical jargon for compulsive lying... or something? Jack would have to go sneak into a library to find─ oh, who was he fooling? He'd go to North. He probably knew something, right? The jolly old man had thousands of books. And surely some of the kids on his Nice and Naughty Lists were schizophrenic?

Instead of answering, Jack was contented to listen to the rest of the piece. Bond's shoulders were hunched now as she leaned in toward the piano, her fingers being pressured into each note with every bit of herself. Her eyes were squeezed shut during the lower notes, where the powerful feelings arose from each key. Jack watched her as she moved with the music, completely lost in her own world. Well, more so than she seemed to be usually. Bond seemed to be the kind of person to always be in her own world, aloof and quite unorthodox. It was quirky and very entertaining to Jack, so he thought to stick around.

Just as Bond was pressing a different set of notes that let off a sharp key change, a hand grabbed her arm with a slap. The music was stunted and the girl tried to jolt away.

"Hey! It was almost done! Just a few more measures, I swea─"

"I said your time was up, Ms. Clarke," the first attendant spoke as the second one grabbed Bond's other arm.

"Bond!" the brunette angrily corrected her. Bond didn't fight, however. She seemed to know when to stop, Jack noted.

Jack was about to freeze the ground again when a glare was sent his way. Bond faintly shook her head and walked away from the piano. Once the attendants saw that she was calm, they let go of her and went back to their business around the room, checking up on the other people. Most of the bystanders had begun paying attention when they saw that Bond had been forced to stop playing. It seemed like they all wanted to hear the end of the song. Jack knew that he did.

Hating to be standing around awkwardly, Jack found his way over to a window bench where Bond was sitting. He gestured to the space beside her, not wanting to speak, although no one but her would have heard him. She appeared dejected. Nodding slowly, she shifted and scratched her arm. He doubted she would attempt to speak to him here, but he'd let her have a moment to settle down. Perhaps she would realize she hadn't seen him last night. It must have been a dream. Jack sat on his toe tips, crouched with his staff anchored to the ground. Bond peered at him out of the corner of her eye and huffed her amusement. Jack didn't mind. He could sit however he wanted.

The room was large and empty with pale yellow walls and little stenciled birds. It was childish for all of these adults. Bond was the only younger one here, apart from the attendants. A question came to Jack's mind.

"You don't have to speak, just tap your finger. But, how old are you?" Jack leaned toward her at first, but back away when he realized that whispering wasn't necessary. He had done it more for her, since the room was dead quiet.

Bond narrowed her eyes, but didn't look directly at him. Her bare feet shuffled under her and she interlocked her toes. Jack wasn't sure why she was being reluctant. Maybe she hadn't heard him? Had he disappeared? Jack waved his hand in front of her face. Bond's immediate response was to swat it away, but her hand phased through his again. The dull shock made Jack withdraw his hand, holding it close. It didn't feel right. But, upon looking back at her, he saw that she was tapping her finger. After some time, she stopped and looked away.

Then Jack realized he didn't know when she started tapping and lost count. "Again?"

Bond tapped her finger on her knee. One, two, three... seventeen times. Bond was seventeen years old. Seventeen! Jack couldn't believe it. She was one year younger than Jamie. Granted, Jamie could still see him, but this was different. She didn't even believe he was Jack Frost. How could she still not believe? She'd seen him blast ice on the floor how many times now? Clearly he had an effect on everyone else. The people around the room were beginning to shiver and frost was crawling along the floor where he'd walked. One of the attendants walked over and closed the window. If Jack had been thinking about leaving, his chance was gone. He'd have to find another way later. So, what other questions could he ask?

"Two taps: yes. One tap: no," Jack instructed before he went on, "is this a hospital?"

Bond hesitated before waving her fingers and resting them again. There was no tapping in the movement. Jack furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of the answer. Was she just being difficult? Bond tapped twice and waved her fingers again. So, it was a yes? But it looked like Bond was unsure as well.

"A certain type of hospital?" Jack thought out loud.

"Mental," Bond coughed quietly. A few people looked in her direction, but otherwise paid her no mind.

A mental hospital. Jack had heard about them before, in passing, but he was never quite sure what was meant by it. He knew mental had to do with the brain, or mind. Weren't they the same? That was a philosophical question that Jack wasn't prepared to deal with, so he pushed it aside. So, Bond was a mental patient... she had whatever schizophrenia was... did that mean she would get better and leave eventually? What if she got better and couldn't see him anymore? Jack wasn't sure if her ability to see him was linked to schizophrenia, or other mental processes for that matter, but his sense of dread began to grow. He wanted to know more about all of it. More importantly, he wanted her to believe in him.

A thought struck his mind. "Do you believe in the Easter Bunny?" Jack tested.

As if incapable of being inconspicuous, Bond turned to face him with the most incredulous look. The attendants looked at her sudden movement, which Bond registered and refocused her eyes farther out. Nothing happened for a moment. Her eyes darted back to his, the brown and blue both exuding confusion. Biting her lip, she tapped her finger on her lap once. Jack asked about Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and Sandman. All of which came back with reluctant no's. Jack was left with the same amount of frustration that he'd started with. But he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

Suddenly, Bond scrambled away from the bench and plastered her body to a side of the column, her eyes staring wide at the back corner of the room that led to a hallway. It had been the way she'd come in. Jack instantly grabbed his staff and went over to her. He stood protectively in front of her and pointed his staff in the direction she had been looking. Nothing was there. Before Jack could say anything, the attendants came around and phased through him. He backed away and called out to her, but Bond didn't seem to listen. She kept staring fearfully, her eyes following something at head-height. Jack could hear her beginning to hyperventilate. Her fingers trembled and tears were dropping down her sallow cheeks. This girl was looking more and more ghostlike by the second, more and more like Jack. The attendants tried to calm the girl down, but she was entirely ignorant.

"NO!" Bond screamed, still not moving from her spot. "That's not true! They're not real! Especially not this fuck!" She pointed to Jack. No one else in the room understood her, but it dawned on Jack that he'd been insulted.

"Hey!" Jack stepped forward indignantly, but she still wouldn't look at him. She'd probably still phase right through him if they got any closer.

"Take that back!" Bond was crying now. "Stop... That's not true..." She slumped to the floor. "That's not true..." her tears streaked down to her chin and pooled. Bond placed her arms over her face and curled her legs toward her chest.

After a few long, painful moments, the attendants faced the rest of the people in the room, who had now become much more agitated. "It's lunchtime, everyone!" The first one called cheerfully. "Please make a line for the stairs and I'll bring you down shortly!" The pep in her speech was disgusting to Jack, and he could tell they were just trying to cover up the current situation.

"Take Ms. Clarke to her room, would you, Ellen?" The same attendant whispered quietly to the other, still kneeling beside the broken Bond. "And make sure she gets food. Force feed her if you have to."

The attendant agreed and pulled Bond up from underneath her arms. Bond's sniffles and tears were quieter now, but her hands could not be moved from her face. While this transaction took place, Jack wished he could do something. Perhaps he'd stay with her through this. She looked like she needed some fun in her life again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack thought he saw a shadow dissipate through a cracked door.

* * *

**A/N: In case you guys were wondering, the piano song that Bond was playing is called "Kiss the Rain" by Yiruma. I figured if I'm going to put a piece of myself into a character, I'm going to put in the piano skills. This is one of my favorite songs to play and I think you should check it out! It's so pretty and fitting for Bond. You'll see why in later chapters, of course! ;) Oh, and I'll have a drawing of Bond up shortly! I'm working on many of those as well. :)**

**Wow, I've talked a lot about myself today, haven't I? Hope you don't mind!**

**Have a wonderful day! :D**


End file.
